


Take you down and make you mine

by kelios



Category: Supernatural, Wincest - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2797400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelios/pseuds/kelios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean decides to teach Sam a lesson. Turns out he's the one with something to learn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take you down and make you mine

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is around 16 in this one.

Title: Take you down and make you mine  
Pairing: Sam/Dean  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: First time preseries Wincest (Sam is around 16), spanking, fingering  
Summary: Dean decides to teach Sam a lesson. Turns out he's the one with something to learn.  
A/N: I originally wrote this for a blindfold prompt that has since disappeared (I guess it was deleted?). Oh well.

 

  
Dean has officially HAD ENOUGH of Sam's bullshit. He's done nothing but complain since their dad left--ironic, given that he did nothing but complain when their dad was here, too. Not for the first time, Dean curses the bruised ribs and dislocated shoulder he's still recovering from after the last hunt.

This time, it's homework. Again. As in Sam would rather learn about differential equations or some other weird shit than practice the new takedown their dad wanted them to learn by the time he got back, despite the fact that it's Dean's ass on the line just as much as Sam's if Sam doesn't have it down by then.

"Could you quit being a petty little brat long enough to at least attempt this move?" Dean's trying to keep his voice level and maybe avoid another yelling match; the manager had already warned them once and Dean didn't have enough cash left for them to move elsewhere. He watched Sam's jaw clench and unclench spasmodically and knew that was a vain hope.

And then Sam surprised him. "Fine," he said tersely, shoving back from the table. "One round, I take you down. Then you _leave me alone._ "

Dean felt a nasty grin creeping over his face. "Oh yeah, Sammy. That's so not going to happen." He shoved their duffles and shoes under the bed, clearing a little space to move.

Sam just shrugged and launched himself at Dean. No finesse, not even an attempt to use the takedown they are supposed to be practicing--he's just trying to nail Dean's ribs and use the pain against him. Dean snaps.

"That's it. You want to be a little bitch? Then I'll treat you like one." In one quick move Dean takes Sam down, pinning his arms and dropping them both onto the bed. He remembers his dad doing this to him once--he's never forgotten the utter humiliation of it, and now he's going to share with Sam.

Dean yanks Sam's sweats down, exposing smooth bare skin. "Going commando, eh Sammy?" Dean smirks nastily. "Not your best move today, kiddo." Sam's struggling wildly now, trying to get away, yelling inarticulately as he squirms on Dean's lap, but Dean's got a good hold on him.

"What the fuck, Dean?" he finally manages to get out, and oh Dean wishes he could see the look on his little brother's face right about...now.

The sound Dean's hand makes when it connects with Sam's ass is startlingly loud, and Sam goes completely still in shock. Dean does it again, spreading his fingers wide as he smacks Sam's other cheek, and a shiver runs through Sam.

“I think ten should do it,” Dean says, and brings his hand down again. Red handprints are blooming on Sam's skin, and Dean feels a little thrill of...something when Sam whimpers and shifts in his lap. Dean settles his hand over one cheek and can't help but notice that his hand covers it almost completely.

“Count them off, Sam,” Dean says, voice rough, and Sam protests wordlessly, squirming on Dean's lap again as Dean brings his hand down, and that's when Dean feels it.

Sam's hard.

“Jesus Christ, Sam,” Dean whispers. Warmth settles low in his belly, a low tingle of arousal that shocks him, dirtybadwrong thrill of getting off on his little brother getting off on him feeding back on itself and turning him on even more.

“Dean...p-please, I need...” Sam's squirming, fuck—humping Dean's leg now, and Dean realizes his hand isn't just resting on Sam's ass, he's kneading the firm, hot muscle under his fingers. He lifts his hand slowly and smacks Sam lightly, just enough to sting on his already oversensitized skin. Sam moans and pants, rubbing Dean's leg harder and Dean's cock swells so fast he feels almost lightheaded.

“Fuck, Sam.” Dean can't believe he's doing this, can't believe Sam's letting him, hell that Sam apparently wants him to. He rubs Sam's reddened skin again, letting his fingers slip between Sam's cheeks and rub over his hole, and Sam goes crazy.

“Oh God Dean do it, please, want you to, please,” Sam babbles. He's writhing on Dean's lap, pushing back against Dean's fingers as he begs. Every move is pushing against Dean's hard-on, but it's not as good as the sounds Sam is making, every whimper, every gasp, every moan going straight to his cock til he's starting to think he could maybe come just from this.

Dean drags his finger away from Sam's hole reluctantly. Sam gives a little sob and strains his neck to look up at him, eyes pleading. “Dean....”

“Shh,” Dean says soothingly. “I got you.” He runs his fingers through Sam's hair, feeling half drunk on pleasure and shock, then lifts his other hand to his mouth. He doesn't look away from Sam's face as he slowly sucks in a finger, getting it good and wet—he knows a little about this. Sam's mouth falls slack and his lashes flutter, so long and girly and Dean can see how blown his pupils are, thin ring of green barely edging the black.

Dean pulls his finger out and Sam's breath catches. He shifts on Dean's lap, spreading his legs wide, pushing is ass up and Jesus Christ. How is this so hot? Dean strokes over Sam's hole, pushing just a little on the center, just the barest tip of his finger inside Sam's body oh fuck, and Sam tenses just a little.

“Gotta relax, Sammy,” Dean coaxes. “Gonna feel good, I promise, just relax...” He strokes Sam's hair again and feels the tension run out of his brother with a shudder.

“Good boy,” Dean breathes, and it should feel corny and lame but Sam shudders again and moans, hips rocking up and back and Dean's finger just slides in to the first knuckle.

“Oh Jesus, Dean,” Sam gasps and Dean's cock twitches hard as Dean bites back a groan. It's so hot inside Sam, so tight and smooth. He pushes in the rest of the way, watching Sam's face as he pants _yeah God yeah_ and then Dean's all the way in, finger buried in Sam's ass and suddenly all Dean can think about is how good that hot clench would feel around his dick.

“That good, Sammy?” Dean asks. He works his finger slowly in and out, drag and squeeze of Sam's muscles so good and Sam nods, mouth twisting in shock as Dean hits the sweet spot inside him.

“Oh God, do that again,” Sam gasps, pushing his hips back against Dean's hand. “Give me more, please, I want you to--” and Dean's brain short circuits a bit. He pushes another finger in and Sam takes it greedily, gets one foot on the floor so he can rock back and forth, neck straining as he fucks himself on Dean's fingers and Dean can't hold back any longer. He fumbles open his jeans and pulls himself out, so hard and hot in the cool air. Sam's eyes go wide as Dean strokes himself and he convulses suddenly, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, muscles clenching almost painfully around Dean's fingers. Searing liquid splatters all over Dean, all over Sam and Dean loses it, orgasm rushing through him and Jesus fuck nothing has ever felt this good in his life.

Dean comes down slow. Sam is a warm, solid weight on his lap—sitting on his lap, arms around Dean's neck, eyes huge and a little scared. Dean's got his hands on Sam's hips and this is a little weird but Dean can't quite find it in himself to care. The fear in Sam's eyes twists his heart and he does the only thing he can think of to make it go away.

Sam's lips are warm and soft, the way Dean's never imagined they would be. Sam opens up to him with a sigh, pushing in even closer, hands stroking the back of Dean's neck and holding him close until they're both breathless.

“How long?” Dean asks when he can speak again. It's important to him, suddenly, that this not be a spur of the moment thing, that Sam has thought this through and really wants it. Sam ducks his head against Dean's neck, cheek hot against the sensitive skin.

“About a year,” he says, words muffled so that Dean has to strain to hear. “Been thinking about this, about you, for so long, Dean.” He lifts his head to look at Dean, biting his lip. “Have you?”

“No,” Dean answers honestly. Sam's face falls, and Dean can't help but kiss him again. “But I won't be thinking about much else from now on.”

 

 


End file.
